Permanent Loneliness
by phriendly11
Summary: Post Episode For " The Confession"


TITLE: Permanent Loneliness  
  
AUTHOR: Hillary  
  
E-MAIL: aliasfanfiction@home.com  
  
WEBSITE: www.geocities.com/aliasfanfiction  
  
CLASSIFICATION: post episode for " The Confession"  
  
SPOILERS: The Confession  
  
DISCLAIMER: If I owned Alias, then I'd be scripted as Michael Vartan's girlfriend  
  
DISTRIBUTION: take it, just let me know where it ends up  
  
RATED: PG  
  
SPECIAL THANKS: to my beta, Jessica. Thanks for being you...and a bonjour to all the Vartan-Ho's  
  
  
  
Permanent Loneliness  
  
  
  
The expression on her fathers face didn't tell her anything she didn't already know. His eyes were trained on hers, his gaze pensive, marked, and angry. Accusatory. It only compounded the guilt that was swarming in the pit of her stomach.  
  
As he spoke, Sydney writhed in her seat - anxious over each coming phrase, each nuance of emotion in his tone. When he began his slow assault of words she had thought "this is a confession, his confession", and it seemed to explain the need for the other board members that were sitting around the boardroom table.  
  
What had she thought? That he would attempt to atone for his sins, to ask these men and women how he might make reparations for an act 25 years old? That he would beg her for forgiveness, citing the reasons for his traitorous actions, claiming he had changed? She'd come so close to almost admiring him, after learning all the things that he had done for her; his actions in Cuba, the lies he told Sloane to protect her, the plane tickets he'd bought for her and Danny. None of the things she had learned about him changed the fact that he was her father, that he had saved her life more than the two times he had physically intervened, and the small vestige of hope remained deep inside her that he would somehow manage to validate himself.  
  
Her internal reverie was broken by the words her father had spoken , words that echoed in her mind as she attempted to understand what he had just said. He had made the true confession, the real declaration, the truth that Sydney's heart burned over having heard.  
  
"My mother.  
  
My mother killed Vaughn's father, and twelve other people........"  
  
And this was only the first mission she had learned about. Sydney's mind raced, questions pouring in as an endless silence filled the room, everyone focused on her and the man by her side. How many innocent lives had her mother needlessly sacrificed? Had she only been a mercenary, a trained killer for the KGB with no conscious of her actions? Sydney could not fathom the depth of her fathers implications. Her mother had not been benign : she had been a murderer, a killer, a traitor against her own country and family. The knowledge sickened her, it made her lightheaded with disbelief.  
  
Her questions were pointless queries without answers that she could even begin to comprehend. There was only her will that remained; the determination to not allow the slightest flicker of emotion to cross her face. Bitter tears burned in the back of her eyes, tears that begged to be released and yet she held her composure. Back ramrod straight, lips pursed, mouth afraid to open in the fear of what she may utter.  
  
The faces in the room had become blurred , each one equally unfamiliar blotches of color, their expressions consumed in the haze of her distorted vision. An emotion grew in the center of her, a beast without a name, an emotion sinister and black, the manifestation of her father's words. Her mother...she couldn't grasp how this could this be true. How could her mother have brutally killed at least twelve men? How could her mother have been a spy, working as a double agent for the KGB?  
  
" Sydney, I can verify for you that Jack - your father, had nothing to do with those agents deaths or the KGB." Devlin addressed her, his tone sympathetic. She nodded, still mute, words failing her. He removed his attention from her and faced the rest of the group. " I think that will be all then. Sydney, I believe you might want to speak with your father. Michael, if you would please stay."  
  
Vaughn. Sydney looked at him, his face a mirror of her own, closed, immobile, eyes unseeing.  
  
" Vaughn -" She said to him, her voice husky, a low timbre that she was not sure he could hear. He did not move, still facing forward. She stood, unsteadily, afraid that she might fall. Her father walked past her, saying nothing, and opened the door.  
  
As she left the office, she looked back at Vaughn. He was watching her -their eyes held a moment, and he then looked away.  
  
  
  
*  
  
" Dad-" Sydney began once they were inside a quiet office a few doors from the conference room. She wrung her hands, unsure of how to continue.  
  
" Before you say anything, Sydney, I want to reaffirm that I had no intention of you finding out about your mothers ...past in the way that you did."  
  
Anger filled her, white hot and surging. The tears that she had fought so hard to control now brimmed at her eyes, ready to fall at a moments notice. " You never intended for me to learn the truth. I asked you to tell me if mom's death had been an accident-"  
  
" And I lied to you. For good reasons. I told you, the information was classified."  
  
She shook her head, trying to make sense of everything, her emotions running on extreme overdrive.  
  
" How long did you know? Did you know before she killed those people? Those agents, Vaughn's father--"  
  
And that was it. Her control lost, tears fell down her face, tears that she hated to spend in front of her father, here in this office. She should be stronger than this, and she hated herself for having this weakness.  
  
" I didn't find out until I knew the CIA was investigating me for involvement with the KGB, Sydney. Your mother and I-- we had a partnership. We worked together. I knew she had Russian connections-- connections that the two of us built for the CIA that I believed were against communism. They suspected me long before they suspected your mother. I didn't want to believe it either, --"  
  
" I can't believe it." Sydney said, her voice filled with sorrow. Her anger, dissipated just as quickly as it came, was now replaced with a heavy weight. " I wanted to tell you, Sydney. I gave you those books with the hope that you might..."  
  
" What? Discover the truth? That I might have magically assumed-- Dad, I thought * you * killed Vaughn's father. Vaughn thought you killed his father. He's been my handler for over three months. You could have at least told me for him, because of him. He's a decent man, and he didn't deserve to be lied to -"  
  
  
  
" I didn't think you would include him in something this personal to you and our family. I warned Devlin about the two of you--" Her father began, his tone intense.  
  
" What are you talking about? It was you that had him reassigned in the first place, wasn't it ? You would rather the both of us have lived ignorant for the rest of our lives about our parents deaths, right? I deserved to know who my mother was, I deserved to know what kind of person she had become. I was five years old when she died, and you let me idolize her my entire life. I thought she was this sweet, wonderful woman, this perfect person... And Vaughn....mom took away his father, dad. He's lived his entire life wondering how that happened to him and to his family . You wanted to keep that from him. You wanted to keep it from the both of us..." Sydney paced the floor, her hands moving with erratic gestures and gaining momentum as they flew through the air.  
  
" I never wanted this to happen, Sydney. I never wanted to see you hurt." Jack Bristow's tone was soft, painful, it wrenched at her heart and made her tears all the more abundant.  
  
There was a sharp rap at the door, and her father opened it cautiously. Outside stood Devlin, his face skewed in a somber expression.  
  
" Jack. If I may have a word?"  
  
Her father nodded. Sydney watched him leave and wiped at the moisture on her cheeks with disdain.  
  
" Sydney?" Vaughn. She turned slowly, afraid to look at him again, filling with anxiety over his proximity.  
  
" Vaughn." He was pale, his expression dour with eyebrows furrowed.  
  
" Devlin asked me if I wanted a reassignment." He shifted, and Sydney moved, nodding, disappointment filling her.  
  
" I understand why you wouldn't want to be my handler any --"  
  
" I told him no. " Their eyes met, held, unwavering.  
  
" You did what?" She was incredulous. Impossible, she thought to herself, not accepting his words.  
  
" I don't want a reassignment. " He crossed to her and sat on the edge of the desk. " Sit down, Sydney. There's something I need to say."  
  
She nodded dumbly and sat. " Right after my father died, I spent a lot of my time with my mother, just time with her. I was afraid that she would die too, in the way that children have illogical fears after the death of a parent. And my mother- she's french, would take me into her arms and say in the most soothing voice ' Il n'y a aucune crainte permanente, Michael. Il n'y a aucun loneliness permanent. '- There is no permanent fear, or permanent loneliness. She wanted me to believe that no matter what, she loved my father and that love was the only permanent thing in this world. I guess it was so that I'd stop being afraid, that I would trust in that simple emotion, that word, love. But for 25 years there has been this missing piece inside, this place that the love I had for my father once occupied. It's been empty so long, and there was so much resentment that built inside me-- When your father first started speaking today , I couldn't even listen to him, I was so enraged by even the sound of his voice -- but then, "  
  
" When he said that my mother killed your father..." Sydney interjected, and Vaughn's head moved in agreement.  
  
" I felt like all that energy I'd built upon for so much of my life was wasted. That it didn't matter anymore. All I could feel was this -" He stopped, and pursed his lips. After a long silence, he continued. " I told Devlin I didn't want to be reassigned because if I had never met you, Sydney, then I would still have that anger, that hatred, that resentment that now serves no purpose."  
  
" I just wish that things weren't the way they are." Sydney muttered, and Vaughn looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable.  
  
" So do I." He said, and she wasn't sure by his tone they meant the same reasons.  
  
" I'm sorry, Vaughn. I'm so sorry that my mother killed your father, that she took him away from you and your mother. I hate it that you had to carry around that hatred in your heart for so long." He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly, and Sydney returned the grip. " I hate that I've spent my entire life believing my mother was a saint."  
  
" I think I need a drink, possibly several. " Vaughn said to her, " Why don't you -"  
  
" What?" She replied.  
  
" Nothing. I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to come with me. I didn't think for just a second."  
  
She smiled, a brittle, forced smile. They exchanged glances, and Sydney cleared her throat. " Right. Well, thank you, Vaughn, for being....a friend."  
  
" Thank you, Sydney, for everything." There was an awkward silence, and he stood, leaving they plane they once had both occupied, together, only seconds before. The place he leaves behind felt...empty.  
  
" I'll see you later, okay?" He was once again frowning, expression again grim.  
  
" Yeah. Have one for me, alright?" Sydney peppers a light tone in her voice.  
  
" Sure . Goodnight." She watched him leave, feeling a hint of loneliness at his exit, an indefinable feeling that she could not explain.  
  
**  
  
  
  
I know, I know, I just solved absolutely nothing. Please tell me what you thought! 


End file.
